train6 hours everyday in the month of january

Beat Phil zajicekin the shootout

Marry the greywolf

Get leaner than marco rullo

Get a contract with the united pro team

Make sure the health dept: doesnt quarantine my coffee maker

and finally:

Wake up tomorrow without a headache

Cheers mates

BB (all big deals use initials)

Just the facts, ma’am:

I went to the Cop Shop just now to drop off more receipts from the hospital and such (dispatched as a “10-12″)  and Officer Benson, who had arrested both me and my brother years ago, greeted me and told me that the Ranger Review, the local paper, called and asked, “Who was the woman involved in the mauling on the South Side?!”.  Pretty funny.  Not even close. He withheld the info, thankfully. 

I went with the full rabies series and they suck.  I had six shots yesterday then felt like ass.  Just achey and awful. The only thing I could do to cope was go out with Corinne and Dawn and Dane, all in the Fixmer family, and laugh my ass off all night while drinking tequilla and cheap beer and bowling, among other things.  I got engaged to Dane, a guy I can remember the birth of. I always knew Corinne and I should be sisters and I’m glad we figured out a way to make that happen..

The dog has been qaurantined after it almost got shot by a couple of cops when they went to nab it.  He said he came about “this” close to using his “weapon”, holding out his fingers about one millimeter apart. 

I’m estimating this whole endeavor will cost the dog owner roughly $3500, prolly more.  Gee.  Think you should keep your dog’s shots up-to-date?

My leg is fine.  I’m fine. Thanks so much to everyone for the well wishes. I was able to stagger back from the bar with Dawn and Corinne on dog attack patrol last night.  We walked across town, about two miles, I suppose, but covered about 6, I estimate ‘cuz we couldn’t manage a straight line to save our lives.

It’s SNOWING!

BB

I spent Christmas afternoon in the Emergency Room in Glendive, my childhood ER, if you will. 

I was out for a run, first in the hills, then through the cemetary to see the tombstone of my Great Grandparent Feisthamels (the first tombstone in there, from the 1800s), then out on my ‘vandalism tour’ to see if all the grain silos we messed up in highschool were still there, then back out on the streets.  I was headed down Sergeant Ave when before I knew what hit me, I was taken down to the ground hard.  I figured it out quickly.  The snarling, drooling, slow motion replay of me being attacked by a loose dog that weighed roughly 80 pounds.  I’m not gonna shit you.  I thought, for sure, I was done for.  I remember little but do remember thinking this as I curled up and protected my head and face, “Oh shit.  This is real”.   This might be it.

I hit the ground hard and the dog got four good bites in my leg. He took me down in one swift move. Unbelievable.  I have been at this for 25 years and I didn’t even see this coming. Tore the only pants I had.  150 pounds to the ground in one fast, out of nowhere move. Just like that, I had no defenses.

For some unknown reason, the dog retreated for a sec, long enough for me to get to my feet.  I had so much adrenaline that I was looking to kill someone. For real. It was weird. I thought nothing of marching up to the house that was once a church, with a trampoline and a camper topper in the yard and looking for someone or something to really hurt.  The dog came at me again.  I had a stand off, not remembering what was the protocol: like a bear or like a mountain lion!?!?!?!? eye contact? no eye contact?!, for several minutes.  I just stood, puffed up and hurt, screaming at the top of my lungs, “NO! NO! GO HOME! NO!”. No one came.  Nothing. Dog wasn’t letting up. I fled finally.  Fast.  I ran about three miles home then came off the adrenaline in the last half mile, really hurting.  I opened the back door of my house and saw my family watching “Cars” all sitting together on shared recliners, “I…need to call…the cops”, then broke and bawled. Hard.  My dad, the Asst. Fire Cheif and Head of Paramedics took it from there.

The cop met us at the site and the dog went after him, too, ”well that worked well,” he said to me.  They weren’t home and I went to the ER.  I heard the cop and my dad say, “this is a situation for a 12 gauge”. I had to do a lot of shots, IV antibiotics, and may have to do the Rabies thing, which is extensive, depending on the outcome of the quarentine.  This is a small town and the County Sanitarian went to take care of the dog.  The County Sanitarian is Dennis Snow, the dad of one of my brother’s good friends through school.  I am certain that the headline of “Broeder Got Attacked By a Mangey Dog” is out and that they came to one of these two conclusions:

1. I did something to get it cuz I always was the antagonist

or

2. I must be out of shape cuz back in the day, a Broeder could outrun that shit.

Merry effin Christmas, eh?

BB

My luggage is long gone,

but…my dad HAD to get cherry peppers for dinner tonight, yesterday, before we left Billings. A chore that would take nearly three hours, give or take.  We wouldn’t have gotten them in Glendive in time so we went to six different places looking for them, only to find naked shelves where cherry peppers used to be. I sat the first few out, but apparently, the first Walmart was sold out; Costco: absolutely nothing; another Walmart where my mom went in and came out saying, “now I’m F-N DONE! I Don’t Care Anymore”; Express Mart, where she began to care again and I became hellbent; two Albertson’s, where the last in the South Side of Billings (kinda ghetto) I scored two jars for $3.  I was so proud walking back to the car, showed my dad my bounty and he simply asks, “are they HOT or Mild?”.  They were hot.  He needed mild so he went back in.  The Mild were sold out. Cherry peppers are the new black in these parts.  Right up there with lefse.

Dad gets hot cherry peppers for Christmas, like it or not.

And No one gets much of anything from me since Delta/Skywest, or somebody that happened across my discarded bag on the tarmac that works for Skywest, gets the presents I bought.

Oh well, at least my seven year old nephew surprised me by making my bed for me this morning, and of all the tens of great presents he got this morning, it seemed he was most pleased with the toothbrush in his stocking, little nutter.

…and to all a good night,

BB

as I’m sitting in the lobby of the Boothill Inn, in Billings, Montana, hearing sirens and thinking there must have been a cardiac arrest because there is really no crime to speak of.  I am on the long journey to my hometown. My parents came to get me here, nearly 200 miles from Glendive.  It takes awhile, as it is really in the middle of nothing anyone else really knows of.

I had a trip last night.  This time of year brings out a whole different breed of traveller and I think it’s really wild from the ‘travel by air nearly every weekend’ perspective that I get during the spring/summer/fall. So many people stranded, delayed, and all were relatively calm and cool.  It is so apparent that you have NO control at all.  I sat at the bar awaiting news on my delayed flight and a guy strikes up a convo with me.  I had enough cash for ONE glass of wine, so I was savoring it.  He keeps talking, as I’m pretty reserved.  The airport bar is not totally my scene.  Then his wife sits down with a five or so karot ring on.  She is cool.  I talk with the both, but my dealings with strangers are usually to make sure that they continue to talk about themselves.  I’m always amazed by the open books out there that spill everything in 15 minutes.  I could never do that (guess I save it for my blog…).  By the finish of the conversation, I knew a whole lot, but they had nothing on me.  Get this though, he bought me two more glasses of wine.  A deal he arranged with the bartender.  That was three, total.  Just for listening.  I really dig people.  Really do.

Then I ran into a friend from Turkey going to ski in Park City.  Hadn’t seen her in a long time.

Then, I listened to two guys that had never been on a plane, dressed in camo, getting ready to drive from SCL to Rock Creek, Wyoming.  They were like a comedy team, like a redneck mock act, but for real.  When I got up to go to the restroom, they gave a ‘hope it goes well in there for ya’ in all sincerity.

Strangers are so great when they realize that everything is truly out of their hands.

Like the people handling my luggage right now.

Peace and humor in all things,

BB

One of my favorite things is the Holiday Letter to Friends and Family. I kind of say that sarcastically, but really, I do like them cuz I always try to read between the lines. Most of the time, I think people put that shit out there to convince themselves that they are happy and worthwhile. Or, they are really telling people how they are, but my feeling is always, WHO ARE YOU!?!?!

Here’s my take on the holiday letter:

Dear Friends and Family,

It’s been yet another hectic and busy, busy year! I realized this weekend when I was training 12 hours in the middle of nowhere with nothing but a friend or two and a bunch of wind, that not only did I not know the legend of Tombsone, but I had not spoken to most of you! Crazy how time flies when the seasons never change.

Let’s see! Well, I’m still extremely selfish and have no one to worry about but myself. I have this deal dialed-in where I’m so afraid and weary of commitment, that I ruin nearly every love interest I have by finding the meaningless fault in him and somehow getting him to bail before he even recognizes that I’ve designed it that way. It’s amazing, really, but it allows me to feel the freedom I am so afraid of losing. January had me wildly sick with a mysterious thing that led me to not feeling right until June and I still can’t smell anything.  I somehow managed to keep my position on a pro cycling team even though most days I couldn’t finish the race. By February, I decided once again, that it was my last year of racing (every year is my last), but I managed to somehow get a flicker of hope out of my talentless, overextended and unfocused self. So much for saying goodbye to dreams that are super far-fetched!!

This summer held a nice little cancer scare, but thank goodness, cuz I discovered who my friends are and are not. I had the wonderful experience of saying ‘good riddance’ to several people this year and even helped a few friends try to see the light through severe depression. In the meantime, I’ve been skating a line between more debt than I can imagine and full on bankruptcy, but thankfully, my parents have stepped in to pay the bills of this thirty or so year-old so I won’t have to sell my house and claim that dirt bench in the Santa Cruz just yet! Parents are great, especially when you’ve screwed up all your life and they continue to love and believe in you despite.

This fall brought a lot of partying which led me to despise alcohol and most people for a while. Even the holidays haven’t brought me out of my semi-sober funk. The kids I don’t have will not be attending public school in Tucson (thankfully) this year and that big time job I don’t have will just have to wait for another five years since I’m going back to school yet again on more student loans. Seems like I’m happiest I’ve ever been, though, even though I’m up shit’s crick, so to speak.

This morning I saw some bums trying to put air in the tires of a shiney bike that had a huge red bow on it at the gas station. I laughed hard. I had a miraculous 100 mile or so ride with Seeley yesterday and into last night then ate with some North Dakotans that made me feel like I was at home. I like my immediate friends more than ever and I laugh harder than ever before. I may be worth more dead than alive right now, but at least I’m having a hell of a time and am being more creative and inspired than I remember ever being.

With that, Happy Holidays: Hanukkah, Quanza, Christmas, New Year’s, Etc!

I love most of you and hope that you haven’t totally written me off yet,

BB

Things disappear and turn up in the Sonoran desert. I’m still hoping all the money I spent in the past couple of years while living here will re-appear. In any event, I met Jones on the corner of nowhere and next-to-nowhere yesterday only to discover a weathered and skinny Marco Rullo, aka Ron Hudson, chewin the fat with Mike. He rolled with us and had to ask me if I sometimes make up things on my site (specifically, the Q and A stuff).

I don’t know where he gets his ideas.

Last week, I happened to find hundreds of cactus needles embedded in my ass and legs, top to bottom, from a mountain bike adventure I thought I’d take with a single-speeder mtn biker pal. I had to drop my bibs on the trail and have him pull them out, but didn’t get them all so I still have tons of remnants. I think they will be a part of me until I get new skin. If you haven’t been on a mountain bike for three years, you might not want to rediscover the sport on single-track near Tucson.

A few days back I got a call from Matt Seeley. If you don’t know who this guy is, you certainly should. Google ‘Matt Seeley’ and ‘Triathlon’ and you’ll see some amazing things. More importantly are the things this guy has accomplished that he doesn’t advertise. Everything is a methodical challenge for Matt. If google were right and knew the underlying lives of people, you would see Matt mentioned as top adventurer/explorer of our time. I can’t even count how many misadventures I’ve had with this mathmatician that somehow estimated a path that led to me thinking I had seen the end of my days. To Matt, the equation is something like this: ’shortcut’ will make a loop and will pan out as 4 hours out of the way, perhaps unfortunately HAVING to turn back only because of waterfalls, gigantic rock drops that require ropes, or wildfire. I am riding with Matt today in Sierra Vista then having dinner with his wonderful wife, Tana, and family. I woke up and thought, “I have my work cut out for me today…”. Matt is Mr. Montana and taught me heaps about perseverance and toughness. It seems there is prolly nothing this guy can’t find his way out of.
I don’t think he was lost in this case, though he did turn up.

I found a couple more photos for my paparazzi page out there, too.

Have a good Sunday,

BB

Dear Santa,

I hope it’s not too late to tell you I’ve changed my mind about what I want for Christmas. I was gonna write you and tell you that I wanted my two and a half month game of phone tag with Heidi to finally end happily with a connection, but I got that wish today so I want only one thing. Maybe two.
#1. I want a Monster Truck. My ten year-old niece keeps telling me over and over that she is going to get married in one, but that’s not why I want it. Although, it would be nice to hand it down to her in twenty years. I want a monster truck because I want to mow people down. And I would also like for there to be no ill consequences for driving over cars. See, no one in Tucson seems to understand that people actually have places to be in a timely fashion so I see no other alternative. I would drive down the side of the road or down the middle, but I don’t want to harm any cyclists. I see this as the perfect, sensible gift for me. And I’ve been good.

#2. This is not top priority like above, but I got invited to two UGLY sweater parties this weekend and need an ugly sweater pronto. These things get thrown at me and I have no choice but to ask you to hurry on this one.

k, thanks!

BB

This is going to come as a huge shock to anyone who has been on a roadtrip with me, has lived with me, has housed me, or has been my teammate, actually, basically anyone who has spent any time with me at all: I tried to go caffeine free in a horrible sort of experiment that has left me defeated.

The givens: Having had a stomach bug two weeks ago, my gut is still off.  Drinking a pot of coffee each morning and wishing for even more when I hit the bottom of the caraffe is problematic.  Coffee is the first thing I think of each day.  Coffee has me wrapped around its finger.  I hate needing things.  The thought of ‘addiction’ in association with me is not acceptable.

The hypothesis: By quitting coldturkey, coffee and I will see that I don’t need it to survive. And, hopefully my stomach will feel better.

The experiment: No coffee.

The findings: With the exception of one long, greedy sip out of Erica’s diet coke, I made it 45 hours. My eyeballs hurt to move them and I went to bed at 8:30 pm because I was so knackered.  My decision making skills went out the window.  I couldn’t stand loud noises.  My legs hurt really badly on my ride. My stomach felt a little better. People were annoying me and I drove my car off of a concrete wall and got it stuck, having to ask a construction crew to lift my car out. I was, in sum, irrational and dangerous.

The conclusion: Evidence indicates that I am a nicer, more rational, more productive and more likable person when I drink as little as ONE cup of Joe.  When what you need is what you want and what you want is what you need, it’s a thing of beauty when you can simply just have that thing in front of you and accept that you want and need it with no shame.

Ah, well, I gave it the college try (half-assed).

BB

Happy Holidays! Here to help you make the most of your holiday issues…

Dear Becky,

I am training in Arid-Zone-a and am thinking I’ll reach peak form on January 1st. I am hoping to possibly extend my fitness out to Valley of the Sun, mid-Feb, and maybe call it quits at McLane Pacific. I am flying on the Wednesday ride up to mile 5 on Lemmon, killing everyone, but need to hang on longer than this Saturday. What is your advice?

Winter Hero, Summer Zero.

WHSZ,

This is a hot topic down here and it often makes the Northerners chuckle with the fleeting thought that they might be doing it right by staying in when it’s blizzarding. Here’s the plan to success: Throw in a couple of six hour rides, do some two a-days in the next couple of weeks then, around Christmas, look for some races in the Southern Hemisphere to get that top end. About January 15th, taper it down, eat little to nothing, race, recover and call it a successful 2007 on March 15th. Take your rest until May and ease back in, ramping it up to full base mileage in July. Never mind those pesky crits you hear the rest of the world is making money at then. It’s all just a myth.

Dear Becky,

I want to be on The Biggest Loser and lose 84 pounds like everyone else. If I’m already riding six hours a day, eating oats, salad, and dry pasta, what can I do to start to see the big gains?

Big Time

Hey, Big Time,

The secret is this: amputation. Seriously. Leg muscle mass is heavy. Just try picking up your own leg. Heavy, huh?

Dear Becky,

I just got ripped off on ebay. Totally swindled. I lost $1000 and have lost my belief in humanity. And during the HOLIDAYS!! What can I do to ease the pain of thinking everyone is an asshole?

bamboozeled

Bam,

You need to go to the mall and walk up to people and punch them in the face at random. Then you need to go to the Salvation Army money bin, swat the guy’s bell down and take it off the hook and walk off with it muttering, “I deserve this”. Then, you need to run up your credit card with gifts and then claim your card stolen. Then, you need to ride your bike in your anger haze all the way up to SummerHaven on a weekday only to find that the cookie shop that you thought about in your misery for four hours is inexplicably closed. Then start said cookie shop on fire. Then, you need to say you’re sorry to the universe and realize that in your rioting, it’s okay to be disenchanted cuz it all is a hoax. Even ebay, my friend.

Dear Becky,

I understand you are into green design. How can I have a green Christmas?

An Inconvenient Questioner

Dear IQ,

Don’t buy a plastic tree because they off-gas. Don’t cut down a tree or buy a cut down tree cuz the forests need them. Don’t put lights up because you will emit CO2 into the atmosphere, thus contributing to Global Warming. Don’t travel for the holidays because it is a huge waste of natural resources and will suggest that you support our reliance on foreign oil and the war in Iraq. Don’t buy gifts because you will inevitably use paper products to wrap them. Don’t attend any Christmas parties because you will have to eat off paper plates, will prolly drive there, will prolly be exposed to excessive light-age, and will have to do something about the holiday spirit that seems to be getting stuck in the earth’s atmosphere up there with all the CO2. So, in sum- Have a happy holiday season, sitting alone, hungry, in the dark, with nothing to give.

Peace! Hope this helps!

BB